Kalmarunionen
by wally-westicle
Summary: It was beginning to become too much for Norway to handle, but he couldn't very well stop. Stopping meant putting Iceland in danger, and he would never allow that to happen. Denmark's harsh voice rang in the distance. His breathing stopped and shortly returned, shallow and painful. Were the apologies even enough anymore? (Kalmar Union historic fic. TWs: abuse, rape, self-harm)
1. Prologue

Hello my friends

Okay, so I am going ahead to safely assume you all realize i'm going through my 'I LOVE HETALIA' phase again, right? That's true. It's the damn Nordics.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in anyway, I just love all the characters, man. I love them all a little too much. I wish I owned Hetalia, though. You'd see some good shit if I did. And by good I mean lots of Nordic episodes, lots of gay, and lots of the UK brothers.

Characters

Berwald - Sweden

Tino - Finland

Håkon - Norway

Mikkel - Denmark

Dagfinnur - Iceland

* * *

It had come naturally for the five of them to get along. Who got along better with the Nordics other than fellow Nordics? Finland and Sweden seemed joined at the hip, Iceland was constantly receiving wanted affection from Norway, and Denmark was just so happy to have them all under one roof- under one monarchy.

It hadn't been easy to get them all to agree to the union. It took more finagling than Mikkel had wanted it to, but soon Håkon agreed to the union, bringing Dagfinnur with him in his stride. Berwald was a different story. He hadn't come so willingly. They fought and yelled and bickered. Each night, Mikkel would come home with a new wound that Håkon found himself having to fix. It was tiring and difficult, but in the end, Mikkel had gotten what he wanted. All five of them under his single rule. He was the king, and he loved them all.

The union had gone along swimmingly. They all played mindless games, told each other stories, laughed, cried, did everything together. They were the perfect family on the outside. On the inside; however, something was brewing, and despite Mikkel's oblivious nature, he couldn't help but notice this happy occasion wasn't to last much longer.

1520

Berwald didn't like the union anymore. He hated it. He tried leaving countless times, but it just ended in a fight between he and his 'superior.' The more he was beaten and abused, the more Tino worried, and he just couldn't have that anymore. Tino didn't need to fret about him. He'd figure a way out of this for the both of them and would perhaps drag Håkon and Dagfinnur away with him.

November 8th, 1520

The climax of the Stockholm Bloodbath. Mikkel had taken the battles too far. He forced Berwald to watch as clergymen, nobility, _anyone_ was helplessly executed. He and his king had promised amnesty, hadn't they? This was inexcusable, and Berwald was hopelessly in a bind. He was thrown back into his sleeping chambers at the end of the bloodspill, and Tino worked fervently to cheer him up. It was settled only after that that Berwald would no longer be a part of the union.

1523

Wars of Succession with Sweden just became harder, more brutal, and Mikkel was beginning to lose hope in his dream of an eternal union. Berwald was getting stronger, harder to keep control of, and Mikkel hated to admit he was losing.

"Why doesn't he want to be my friend anymore, Nor? I have given him everything, have I not? Does he not see all the good I have done for him? What an ungrateful man," he had said to Håkon one night while the other tended to the bloody gash on his eyebrow.

"He does not feel the need to be your friend any longer," the Norwegian had started, gently dabbing at the wound to clean it. "You caused he and his people much sorrow, Mikkel. The bloodbath was the final straw, and you know that. He does not want to be a part of this union due to your behaviour. Granted his is not the best either, but I digress. Perhaps you should just let him go."

"I do not see the good in that, Håkon. Does he deserve it? Nei. Why should I give in for the likes of him?" His words sounded so harsh, and Håkon had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting back some form of insult.

"The fighting is affecting you just as negatively as it is him. It is time to let him secede and be on his own. Perhaps it will do you both some good."

1524

Mikkel had finally seen the mistakes he had made and let Sweden go. His eyes were in a harsh glare, and his jaw was clenched tightly. The only time Berwald had seen him in such a state was on the battlefield. Sure enough, and much to Mikkel's chagrin, the treaty was signed, and Sweden had officially seceded from the union, free to do as he pleased.

Without anymore than a sneer, Mikkel grabbed Håkon's arm and Dagfinnur's hand and took the two of them home. His family was broken, and the house felt empty. Despite the small effort made by Håkon and occasionally Dagfinnur to cheer him up, Mikkel was always left in an angry stupor, letting the brothers do things alone while he had time to think and brood. Håkon would bring meals to his study, and Dagfinnur would occasionally bring games and toys, begging Mikkel to play with him once again like they had before. Despite all his anger, the Dane had agreed and played with the boy like they had before the Swedish succession. Slowly, things returned to normal, and Mikkel's broken family became complete once more.

* * *

So yeah there's the prologue for my newest project my friends. It's my take on the Kalmar Union

This was just the overall view of the history. So now you know that this is why Sweden left.

The first official chapter will be months after Berwald and Tino have left and Mikkel is going just a little mad.

Okay you guys know how it works. Rate and review please. I work a lot harder and faster when I get a bit of encouragement.

Thank you all. uwu


	2. So it begins

So here is the official first chapter on my take of the Kalmar Union.

Obviously there is going to be DenNor in here somewhere, so it's kinda at the end of the chapter if you really squint.

TRIGGER WARNING

THIS CHAPTER CONTINUES VIOLENCE

I don't really think it's graphic, but violence and abuse doesn't trigger me all that bad. If you cannot handle mentions of blood, abuse, or bruising, do not read this. I do not want any of you being affected.

Thanks and enjoy

WARNING: continues little Iceland. idk why that's a warning but cuteness overload maybe? idek

* * *

"Fire, fem, seks, syv, otte, ni, ti! Alright, Island, i'm coming for you!" There was loud giggling coming from the food closet, but Mikkel knew better than to just outright find him. He looked aimlessly beneath tables and opened cabinets.

"I guess Dagfinnur's lost forever. I cannot seem to find him anywhere!" He made a show of looking exasperated at the kitchen counter, watching as the lips on Håkon's face curled upwards in the slightest hint of a smile. A shriek was heard from the pantry, and out stormed a giggling Iceland. He grabbed on to Mikkel's hand and bounced up and down excitedly on his toes.

"Danmark, Danmark, I was in the food closet!" Mikkel began to chuckled, patting his head affectionately.

"I see that, Dagfinn. You are much better at hide and seek than I." The smile on the Icelandic's lips broadened, and the pride he felt was more than obvious. Håkon rolled his eyes, pushing them both out of the kitchen. He was cooking, and he didn't need the two of them in there running amuck.

* * *

"Mikkel, you should have seen bror! He shot down a reindeer this big." The Icelander threw his arms out for emphasis, knocking over a glass of milk that had unfortunately been in his path. He put his arms down immediately, saying a quiet 'oops'. Håkon got up quickly, picking up the glass and pressing a cloth to the mess. Mikkel slammed his hand down on the table, startling the brothers with the harsh sound.

"Dammit, Dagfinnur!" Iceland's bottom lip trembled, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. Håkon frowned and finished cleaning up the mess. He patted Dagfinnur's back reassuringly.

"Mikkel, he did not mean to. He was being animated. I do not understand the problem. It's just some milk." He stood Iceland up and patted his soaked shirt, squatting down to the younger's height to give him a light squeeze. The Icelander sniffled in his ear, rubbing his eyes frantically to rid them of tears. Mikkel had always told him boys didn't cry. Boys weren't afraid of anything.

Mikkel bit the inside of his cheek, face recalculating. The intensity in his eyes nearly vanished, and the harshness in his brow lessened. He pulled Dagfinnur away from his brother, squatting down and holding the boy's hands in his. Dagfinnur visibly stiffened.

"Listen to me," he started, waiting for the child's nod to continue, "you are a good boy, Dagfinnur. Promise me you will not ever do something like that again." Dagfinnur nodded his head in complete understanding, only pulling away from Denmark once Håkon told him to run upstairs and get clean and dry. Norway crossed his arms, standing erect and opening his mouth to say something. He was stopped by a loud slapping noise followed by a stinging pain in his cheek. His mouth clamped shut.

"Who in the hell do you think you are, Håkon?" Mikkel asked, snarling at the Norwegian. Håkon tried to form some sort of a sentence, but no words would come to mind, and he simply stood, gaping at the Dane. Mikkel rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You might be his older brother, but you will not undermine my parenting. Dagfinnur needs to be punished when he's done something wrong-"

"He did nothing wrong! He spilt milk, Mikkel! It was not on purpose. He was excited to tell you a story, and you scared him! What is wrong with you?" There was another smack, this one much harder, and Håkon had to brace himself against the wall to keep from dropping. He tasted copper, and he wondered if it was his lip or his cheek that was bleeding.

"Shut it, you worthless slut. If you are so worried he will be terribly scarred by a little rightful parenting, I suppose you'll have to take all his punishments, won't you?" Norway swallowed hard, licking the blood from his lip and nodding his head. If that's what it took, then so be it.

"I will," he began. "Whatever punishment you see fit, i'll gladly take. Just please, Danmark, please do it in privacy. He does not need to see. You are so grand in his eyes, Mikkel, i'd hate to see you falter."

* * *

"Håkon, I'm so incredibly disappointed in you, can you not tell?" The venom in his voice stung, and the Norwegian bit his swollen lip, trying to focus on Mikkel's harsh tone rather than the pain he felt from getting his head slammed against the wall. He shouldn't have said anything at dinner. He shouldn't have told Mikkel he was destined to fall. He should have kept his mouth shut. Alas, he did not, and this was his punishment. I had to deal with it, he supposed, and he'd do it with little complaint. Denmark was sad since Berwald left; he'd snap out of it, right?

Wrong.

He was thrown on to the floor, cast aside while Denmark paced, stewing over the words that had been spoken earlier. So grand in his eyes. Iceland's eyes. No one else's? Bull. Complete bull. He was Denmark, the King of the North. He was a feared conqueror, and people bowed at the sight of him. He was strong, invincible, unbeatable.

Sweden had bested him. He seethed, turning around and smacking Håkon once he was again in an upright position. He fell to the ground again, gingerly touching his stinging cheek, eyes wide as he stared at Mikkel. The Dane merely sneered, plopping down on the bed, hands held together tightly, elbows on knees. Norway swallowed hard.

"You think he's better than me, do you not? You think Berwald has won. You think he is some sort of hero worth believing in!" Håkon shook his head frantically, trying to think of any way to soothe Denmark's savaged mind.

"Nei, Danmark, nei. I-I do not. He is not some hero. He left the union on his own accord, and I am sorry. Perhaps he's selfish!" He didn't mean that. Berwald wasn't a hero, that was for sure, but he definitely wasn't selfish. He left with Tino, knowing that it was the best thing for the two of them. He offered to take Iceland and him along, but Håkon was happy with Denmark, and Dagfinnur didn't seem to keen on the idea of being away from the Dane. How was he to predict this to happen?

Mikkel's jaw tensed for a long moment and slowly relaxed. His eyes softened, and he moved over to the Norwegian, cradling his face in his hands, careful of the injury he had caused. Håkon had to keep his lips pressed in a tight line to keep himself from sighing in relief. He didn't want that other Denmark coming back anytime soon. No, he just wanted this Denmark. This Mikkel. This Mikkel was caring, loving, helpful, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was the MIkkel Håkon had fallen for.

"I'm so sorry, Håkon. I- I didn't mean it today. I was not mad at Iceland. Hell, I wasn't even mad at you. Sve and Fin leaving really took a toll on me, ya know? I just miss them a lot. I didn't mean to take it out on you." To emphasize his apology, the Dane pressed a kiss to his cheeks, forehead, and lips. Håkon took in a few slow breaths, bringing his hands up to Mikkel's and holding them in his own.

"Okay. I forgive you, Mikkel."


	3. I'm So Sorry

It had seemed that things had gotten better since the last time Håkon and the Dane had gotten into a bit of a quarrel. Mikkel spoke softer, nicer, and Iceland seemed to have a pleasant attitude once again. It had taken days and reassurance from both Mikkel and Håkon to get Dagfinnur to stop being so upset over the spilled milk situation. Once again, Mikkel and Dagfinnur played games and told each other dumb jokes. Things were normal again, and the Norwegian was glad of it.

"Håkon, let's go outside and have some fun. I'm sure Dag would love it. All you've done all day is read that stupid book. You can't truly find merriment in that." The Norwegian felt his brows crease in subtle frustration, and he slowly lowered the book in his lap, eyeing the Dane warily.

"Mikkel," he drawled, pushing the other's face away with his forefinger, "I know you do not find enjoyment in books, but I do. If you wish to go outside in the snow, bundle up yourself and Ice and have a ball. I'm enjoying myself just fine in here." Mikkel was pouting, arms crossed and bottom lip stuck out. Håkon was almost sure he had seen it tremble. He rolled his eyes, trying to divert his attention by picking up his book once again.

The Dane sighed, getting up and going to Iceland's room. The child was busying himself with attempting (and failing) to make his bed. Chuckling, Denmark helped Dagfinnur finish his chore and then into some warmer clothes. He did the same for himself and took the child outside, leaving the door ajar to speak to Norway.

"Ah, come on, Nor! Look at your brother! He's so cute and happy! Don't you want to come join in on the fun?" Håkon looked out the door, noticing the small smile on the Icelander's lips. His own lips curled upwards in the faintest smile, but he wiped it off to give Mikkel a playful glare.

"Shut the door, Mikkel, it's freezing." He emphasized his point by curling in on himself. The Dane laughed but did as asked and shut the door. At least now Håkon would have the quiet he wanted.

His book was interesting. It told of a faerie finding love and compassion for a troll. A silly tale, really, but the Norwegian loved it dearly. He remembered reading it as a child, before Iceland was found. In fact, he had once read it to Dagfinnur. His violet eyes had gotten wide with wonder, and Håkon briefly wondered if the reaction would be the same if he read it to him again. Perhaps he'd read to him tonight.

His thoughts absorbed him, and he didn't hear the gentle creaking of the door opening, or the trying to be sneaky (that were still much too loud) footsteps creeping up behind him. He noticed Mikkel and Dagfinnur were back a second too late, and snow was shoved down the back of his shirt. He jumped, yelping and stomping to his feet, letting the ice fall down his back and on to the floor. Mikkel and Dagfinnur laughed. Håkon glared at the pair though it held no malice.

"I am so very glad you both found that amusing," he spat, leaning down to pick up his fallen book. Iceland looked at his feet sheepishly, mumbling a sorry that the Norwegian just had to accept. There wasn't any use in being mad at him.

"Yeah, Nor, we're sorry. I just wanted to see what your reaction would be. You didn't come out and have fun with us, so we brought the fun indoors, see?" Mikkel's grin made Håkon almost roll his eyes, and Norway could only nod. The snow had melted into a slushy puddle, and it needed to be cleaned up before anyone slipped over it.

"Island, can you do your big brother a favour?" Håkon asked, watching Dagfinnur perk up at his name. The child nodded his head, eager to help his brother in any way he possibly could.

"Bring me a towel, please. I don't want someone hurting themselves over a small puddle." The child zoomed off, shedding the extra layers of clothes he was wearing as he went. Håkon sighed.

"Hej, Nor," Mikkel started, grabbing the Norwegian's shoulder and shaking it gently for attention. Norway let his eyes linger after the child momentarily before turning them to the Dane before him. Mikkel's smile was less obnoxious, and it made him look almost innocent, small. The corners of his own mouth tipped upwards slightly.

"Do you think tomorrow you'll come out and play in the snow with us? The kid wants to build snow-people, and you're the only person I trust building the body." Håkon snorted, taking the towel from Iceland and pressing it to the wet mess on the floor.

"Já, stóri bróðir, will you _please_ play with us tomorrow?" Dagfinnur was practically urging the Norwegian, and he'd be damned if he said no.

"Ja, fine. I will go out with the two of you tomorrow. It is much too dark now. How about I go make dinner and the two of you wash up?" The eager smiles on the other Nordics' faces pulled at Håkon's heart, and he pushed them both away, telling Denmark to help clean up Dagfinnur before he took care of himself. Mikkel nodded, grabbing the Icelander up in his arms and taking him off to get clean. Norway moved to the kitchen to get a head start on dinner.

* * *

Dinner hadn't been anything special. Norway had made some sort of stew in hopes to warm the other two up. It had worked, and by the time they had finished and Håkon was doing dishes, Dagfinnur was comfortably drifting off, curled up against Denmark's side in the sitting room. Careful as to not disturb the sleeping child, Mikkel picked him up and carried him quietly to his room, tucking him in beneath the blankets and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He returned to the kitchen and hugged Håkon's waist loosely, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. The Norwegian went stiff and then relaxed, carefully drying the ceramic dish in hand.

"Is Dagfinn asleep?" He asked, placing the dish back in its spot before grabbing up another to dry. Mikkel nodded.

"You know, Nor, I still feel bad about the other night… That's not me- I don't do that kind of stuff. I wouldn't ever hurt you like th-" He was silenced by a damp hand being placed over his. Håkon sighed, patting it a few times and returning to his dishes.

"Don't talk about it anymore, Danmark. I know you wouldn't do something like that. You're stressed out; you're spreading yourself too thin. I understand that." Mikkel's eyes were wet, and he used the cloth on Håkon's shoulder to wipe them. If Håkon understood, Mikkel was lucky to have him.

"I'm so sorry, Håkon. It's been bothering me, and I didn't feel like I really apologized." The Norwegian stayed silent, allowing him to continue talking and apologizing for the other night. He had come to terms with that hours after it happened, and he didn't think anymore apologies were in order. Mikkel was sorry, he was sincere, and Håkon forgave him. Mikkel continued.

"I want to do something for you so you know just how sorry I am." The grip around his waist was no more, and Mikkel's hands had roamed just slightly beneath his shirt, hands cold on warm skin. Håkon smirked a bit and then resumed his stoic expression, drying off the last dish and setting it in its place. This was no place for such talk.

"Mikkel, we can't do this- not in here, at least. Iceland could wake and come searching for us." The Dane let out a chortle, warm breath tickling Håkon's ear. He nearly shuddered at the feeling, but he instead let it slowly pass.

"Dag won't wake up-"

"But if he _does_," Håkon interjected, pushing out of Mikkel's arms just enough to turn and face him. Mikkel laughed a little, nodding his head.

"We can move this, then. To my room. He won't go searching for ya there." This was true. If Dagfinnur was to have a nightmare or an uneasiness in his slumber, he usually would follow the hall to his brother's room or go to the kitchen where a candle would still be lit, away from anything flowy as to not catch the house on fire. He'd sit there and eventually fall asleep only for Håkon to carefully carry him back to his bed.

"I suppose you're right, Mikkel; however, if I hear him calling for me, I will be leaving you to check on him." Mikkel frowned a little, let out a grandiose sigh, and nodded.

"Fine, it's a deal."

* * *

"Ow, Danmark, not so hard," Håkon growled out, pushing the other blonde off him. He was fine with a little neck-biting, sure, but not _that _hard. What, was he trying to draw blood? Mikkel shied away momentarily, running fingers through his mussed hair and chuckling. He was overzealous, was all. It wasn't everyday Nor allowed them to touch in such a way.

"Gently," the Norwegian reminded him. Mikkel nodded, moving forward once more and pressing their lips together. Håkon returned the kiss, letting himself be pushed back into the less than comfortable mattress. Mikkel's finger gently dragged patterns over the skin of his cheek, moving slowly downwards to lift up the fabric of his shirt and continue drawing patterns there. It tickled Norway to say the least, and he laughed a little against the other's lips. Soon, they were both too caught up in laughing to continue what they had started.

"I want you to know something, Håkon," Mikkel said suddenly, pushing himself to the side until he lay nestled against Håkon's side. The Norwegian looked up at him, the laughter gone but a hint of a smile remaining on his lips and a giddy gleam in his eyes.

"What is it, Danmark?" He asked. The Dane moved close again, kissing his lips and then his cheeks and then his forehead.

"No matter what, I love you." There was silence.

"I love you too."

* * *

Okay so yeah sorry it took so long to get out chapter 2. But there it was.

I bet you guys can tell it was supposed to contain smut but then I got embarrassed writing it and I changed my mind sorry.

When you guys can, I hope you'll review.

Thanks!


	4. Our Perfect Family

Iceland was groggy and irritated when he awoke, his feet gently pattering across the floor as he moved towards his brother's bedroom. He had another horrible dream, and being alone was getting to him. At least his brother would welcome him into a warm bed and comforting arms. If he were still too wary to fall back asleep, Nor would tell him stories, pet his hair, and sing him a lullaby.

"Håkon," he said in a small voice, "I had a bad dream. Can't I stay in here for the rest of the night?" There was no answer nor was there any rustling of the comforter. He frowned, climbing up on to the mattress only to find it empty.

"Nor?" His voice was louder and it carried down the hallway, alerting Norway and awakening him from his slumber. He rolled off Denmark's chest, pushed the blankets from his body, and slowly made his way back to his own bedroom. Dagfinnur stared up at him, pout on his lips and glare in his eyes.

"Lillebror, i'm sorry. I fell asleep in Mikkel's room. Did you have a bad dream?" The Icelander huffed, crossing his arms and casting his eyes aside. He was throwing one of his tantrums. The only one that ever got him to lighten up during one of these moods was Denmark.

Iceland slid off the bed and skittered down the hall to the Dane's room, walking over to the sleeping lump and gently shaking him awake. Mikkel opened his eyes long enough to see who was there before yawning and sitting up.

"Icey, is something the matter? You only ever wake Håkon up. Was he being rude?" He heard a scoff from his right and briefly wondered when the Norwegian had entered as well.

"He's always in his bed, Mikkel, because he knows I get scared and come to him. He promised he'd always be right there when something frightened me. He broke his promise." His tone was accusatory, and Mikkel laughed a little, ruffling the boy's hair good-naturedly.

"It's my fault, kid. He fell asleep in my room because I kept him up with my yapping." Dagfinnur looked less than convinced, shooting a glare towards his older brother before turning his violet eyes back to Mikkel. The Dane chuckled some more, pulling himself out of his warm bed and picking up the Icelander to hold in his arms. Dagfinnur hardly struggled.

"Come on, Dag, you know Håkon would never purposefully break a promise; he's never once broken one." The Icelander looked conflicted, turning his eyes back on to his brother and receiving a hopeful smile in return. He nibbled on the inside of his cheek and slowly nodded his head, agreeing that his brother would never do something like that. And besides, it wasn't like he didn't come running to him immediately.

"Okay, Mikkel. I guess you are right." He sounded almost reluctant to admit that, and he was even more reluctant to march over to Håkon and give him an apologetic hug. Mikkel smiled, waltzing over to the brothers and affectionately wrapping his arms around them, tight and possessive.

Håkon could handle the squeezing. It was fine, to say at most, but what he couldn't bear was the sloppy, wet kisses Mikkel so lovingly placed to his cheeks and hair. He pressed his face on to the Dane's bare shoulder, wiping off the excess drool with a disgusted groan.

"Åh, min søde lille familie! I love you both so much!" Mikkel's voice was much too loud for the late hours of the night, and Dagfinnur let out a whining noise in protest, shoving himself out from between his elders.

"You're too loud, old man," the kid told him, shuffling over to the bed and climbing atop it. If Håkon was sleeping in here, then he was too. Håkon snorted, averting his eyes from the sputtering Dane.

"Old?" He almost bellowed, "I'm old? I do not think so! Your bror is almost as old as I am!"

"He's old too," Dagfinnur replied nonchalantly. A victorious grin rose on Denmark's face, and Håkon honestly believed he was going to choke him. His eyes narrowed in an icy glare and Iceland cowered, shoving his small body under the blankets and sheets. Mikkel stuck his lips out in a frown, moving over to the bed and prodding the Icelandic lump. The boy squawked, wiggled, and stilled. Mikkel chuckled.

"Neither of us are old, Dag, we're just older than you." The Icelander sniveled at that, shaking his head, nose held high in the air. Håkon suppressed a chuckle, watching the Dane huff. Of course the child was just like Nor. How else was he supposed to act? Mikkel let out a groan.

"Ice," he whined, wrapping his arms around the small child and enveloping him into a hug Dagfinnur most certainly did not want. "Why can't you be nice to your big brother, huh? You used to be so sweet and loving. What happened?"

Iceland didn't even seem to flinch at his words. He just snapped his head to look at him, and with a tone as sharp as a knife, he responded. "I'm not being rude to Håkon, Mikkel. Just to the obnoxious Dane latched on to my person." Håkon snorted and retreated from the room before said Dane could send him a nasty glare.

"Oh, now i'm obnoxious, huh? Is that it?" Dagfinnur gulped, looking away quickly with flushed cheeks. He didn't want to get in trouble just for repeating the same words his brother used when Mikkel got too affectionate. His side was prodded, and he gasped after a few involuntary giggles left his mouth.

"Danmörk, _nei._" The child said suddenly, doing his best to wriggle out of Mikkel's grasp. It was futile.

"Danmark, _ja_," Mikkel responded, pushing the child back on to the bed and tickling his stomach. Dagfinnur screamed and squealed, laughing and sobbing while limbs threw themselves rampant, trying to get away from the tickler. It was no use; Mikkel was much stronger than him, and kicking him in the face only seemed to spur him on and make him laugh.

Mikkel stopped gradually, and Iceland's laughter subsided. He caught his breath and let the smile drip off his face, only to fall into a frown. The smirk on Mikkel's face caught him off guard, and fear shook through his small frame. What was he planning? Was it going to be worse?

"Oh, Nor! I think Dagfinn needs more tickling!" He said in a sing-song voice. Dag's eyes got wide, and he looked at his brother frantically in the dark, shaking his head. Håkon let out a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, lillebror. I don't _want _to have to do this-"

"Then don't! Please, bror!" His pleading fell on deaf ears, and before he knew it, both Mikkel and his brother were poking and pushing into his most ticklish spots. He screamed and gargled, kicking harder than before. When he no longer had any breath and his face was impossibly red, they stopped, trying to calm down their own laughter. Iceland growled.

"You're both mean!"

"Hej, you called me obnoxious, kid. I don't take kindly to that."

"But Nor does it!" Both sets of eyes fell on the Norwegian.

"You have yet to master the Norwegian death stare."

* * *

Okay so this one took forever bc school. Sorry. But I made it nice and cute and happy.


	5. Do You Miss Him

The morning following their hectic night was good. Håkon dragged himself out of Mikkel's bed (how the hell did all three of them fit in that, exactly?) and into the kitchen. He went to work quietly on making some porridge, pulling out bowls and spoons and setting the table appropriately.

Mikkel awoke next, and he gently moved the sleeping Icelander's head from his ribs and on to the plush surface, sliding out from beneath the comforter and on to the floor's wooden surface. He stretched and made his way into the kitchen. He walked unceremoniously to Håkon and placed a kiss to his temple before sitting at the head of the table, waiting for breakfast.

"Dag still asleep?" The Norwegian asked, spooning some porridge into Denmark's bowl. Mikkel nodded his head, wiping a hand over his face as if to wipe away the rest of his tiredness. He made himself believe it worked.

Håkon went silent again, taking the bowl over to the Dane and placing it before him. He reminded him it was hot and moved back to gather himself his own bowl, sitting down only once Mikkel seemed satisfied with his bite.

"You deal with Dagfinnur like that every night?" Mikkel suddenly asked. Håkon smiled a little, nodding his head and taking a bite of his food. Denmark whistled lowly.

"Kid kicks really hard. I'm almost sure I have a bruise on my stomach." Norway chuckled, patting his arm reassuringly.

"Oh, you'll be fine, Mikkel. He doesn't kick that hard. Usually there is enough space between us where I do not get kicked. It isn't my fault you insisted we all sleep in the same bed last night." Mikkel nodded his head, moving his mouthful of porridge to one cheek to speak again.

"Still hurt like hell. Besides, who doesn't like sharing a bed with a king? You were totally fine until Ice got scared." Håkon rose and withdrew a rag from the kitchen, handing it to the Dane to wipe his face with.

"Don't talk with porridge in your mouth, Mikkel. And who is to say I was fine? Perhaps I was in there to humour you." There was a dark glint in Mikkel's eyes, and he wondered briefly if he had said the wrong thing. He swallowed thickly, busying his mouth with another spoonful of food and turning his gaze elsewhere.

"You were there only to humour me, huh?" Håkon refrained from flinching at his tone.

"Nei. That was a joke. I would have left if I didn't want to be there." Mikkel nodded, eyes softening from their glare and lips looking less pursed. Norway almost breathed a sigh of relief.

"I thought so. Like I said, who wouldn't want to share a bed with the king?"

* * *

Håkon watched as Mikkel and Dagfinnur laughed and frolicked about the yard. Denmark was chasing Iceland, and Iceland was letting out loud screeches when he was captured that turned into bubbling giggles. A smile formed on the Norwegian's face. It was nice to see Iceland so happy. He hadn't always been this way as a child.

His smile slowly fell back to his neutral expression, and in came the two boys (heaven knows Denmark didn't act like a man), laughing and sweating. Håkon handed Mikkel a handkerchief to wipe himself with. Denmark accepted it with a smile.

"Bror," Dagfinnur whined out suddenly, tugging at his brother's pants. Norway looked down at him, squatted to his height, and grabbed his hands. Dagfinn continued, "Mikkel and I are hungry. When's lunch?" Oh, Dagfinnur was always hungry. You could feed that kid until your arms grew sore of cooking and he still wouldn't be completely satisfied. Håkon chuckled.

"In a bit, okay? Why don't the two of you wash up a little bit, and i'll get started on making it." Dagfinnur nodded and grabbed Denmark's hand, trying to drag him away. Denmark didn't budge. He patted Ice's head and told him he'd be in there to help in just a minute. Despite his pout, Dagfinnur nodded and bounded off towards the washroom. Mikkel grabbed one of Nor's hands.

"We should go into town tomorrow, Nor." Håkon made a face, shrugging his shoulders and pulling his hand free. It was grabbed again, much harder this time, and his arm was yanked so he'd face the Dane. He blinked, surprised by the sudden force, and set his jaw tight.

"Let me rephrase that, okej? We're going into town tomorrow, Nor." Without grimacing or pulling his hand free, the Norwegian nodded. Mikkel smiled, his grip loosening gradually. He pulled Håkon's arm again, softer this time, and kissed his lips gently. Håkon once again refrained from grimacing.

"It'll be fun, Nor. We can buy more groceries for the house!" Denmark seemed adamant about this trip bringing Håkon some sort of pleasure, and Norway forced himself to smile and nod, slowly pulling his hand away once again. Denmark didn't reclaim it.

The Dane scampered off to help Dagfinnur finish washing up. Håkon sucked in some air and moved to the kitchen. There wasn't much to make for lunch if they were going to have their planned dinner, but he went to work on making something for them to eat. At least going into town brought more groceries into the house.

* * *

The town was bustling that next afternoon, and Iceland seemed excited to be out somewhere other than around their house. Håkon didn't seem too excited, but the little spring in Dagfinnur's step had him feeling a little bit better about the whole situation. Mikkel was grinning.

"You know, Dag, I think we'll have to buy you new clothes; you've grown so much. I forgot how fast nations grow." Mikkel stated, watching the boy's eyes widen and a smile appear on his lips. As much as Håkon hated to admit it, Dagfinnur was growing rather quickly. It seemed as though overnight he went from a six year old to a ten year old. Though pleased with how his brother was turning out, it hurt him to see him grow so quickly.

"We'll have to buy many sets, I think. In case he grows again." Norway muttered, moving off to the side to check some of the market's fresh produce. He gathered some in a basket, paid the amount, and continued walking with his family. Denmark nodded, looking around for other things they might need. They had already bought so much, and Mikkel was unsure if half of it would last as long as they planned. He moved to a shop selling garments, had Ice help him pick several that he liked, and paid for them, taking the wrapped parcel and waving it to Norway. Håkon offered a whisper of a smile.

"What do you say about getting home, Nor? I'm beat. And hungry. I'm sure Dag wants food too."

"I always want food," Dag corrected. Håkon chuckled, nodded his head, and followed the other two to the carriage.

The trek home was nearly silent. Dagfinnur had fallen asleep three minutes into the ride, nestled against Norway's shoulder, and Norway found ways to keep the fruit and vegetables from knocking into one another and bruising. Mikkel shook Iceland awake once they arrived home. The sun was setting, indicating that it was time for dinner. Norway hurried inside, put the groceries away, and began cooking for the three of them. Dagfinnur put on his new, fitting clothes. Denmark got himself a drink and sat quietly at the dinner table. Iceland left to wash up.

"Håkon, can we talk?" Mikkel was looking at him, and Norway stopped his shopping to look back.

"Ja, we can talk. Continue."

"It's about you, Nor," Denmark started, getting up and walking heavily towards him. Håkon paused his cutting again, turned towards the Dane, and set his knife down. Adrenaline rushed through him, and he felt like he was buzzing. There was something in Denmark's tone that startled him, caused anxiety to flood through him.

"What about me?" His voice was light, and he wondered if he was the only one that could hear what he asked. Mikkel offered some sort of reassuring smile, but it did nothing to ease the quaking of Håkon's heart. He swallowed.

"You just...you keep getting yourself worked up. It's like I can't even look at you without you getting...flighty. What's that about, Nor? I'm worried. Is it because...because of me smacking you?" Håkon blinked at him several times, listening as the harsh, cold tone in Denmark's words softened. He sounded scared, hurt, and Norway didn't know how to respond. He opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again.

"I don't know, Danmark, I don't know. I'm still- I'm in shock, I suppose. That Sweden left you. Left us. And you're so unhappy, Mikkel. I don't know how to help you." He was expecting a sniffle or sob from the larger man, not a hard slap across the face that forced him to catch himself on the counter, effectively slicing open his palm on the knife. He winced, eyes stinging, and looked up at Mikkel.

"Don't you dare bring up Sweden. Don't for a second think that he has any control on how I act and hold myself, do you understand me?" Håkon caught himself glancing towards his palm, but he daren't break eye contact with the Dane. He breathed slowly, counted to ten in his head, and nodded. He was fearful to speak, and Mikkel must have caught sight of that. His blue eyes flickered nervously, and he grabbed Norway's injured hand.

Håkon stood silently, numbly listening to Denmark go on and on about his bleeding wound and how worried he was for it. He only really listened in when he heard the elder shouting for Dagfinnur. He stared at him, pleading him with whatever weak voice he could muster not to bring the young one in. It was too late. Iceland strolled in, pausing at the sight of blood.

"What happened?"

"Your brother sliced his hand open with a knife; I need bandages."

"Yes, of course." Dagfinnur was gone once again, fumbling around for bandages before rapidly returning and wrapping them tight around the injured hand. Håkon hardly winced at the pain, giving his brother a small smile in thanks. Ice hardly noticed it, but he did manage to let Norway know to be more careful next time. Håkon bit down hard on his tongue.

"Dag, can you finish dinner tonight? I'm going to make sure your brother is okay." The Icelander nodded, pulling out a new, clean knife to cut with before chopping the rest of the vegetables. He'd gut the fish once he was done.

Mikkel pulled Håkon to his bedroom, shut the door quietly, and tossed him to the wall. Håkon let out a dull 'ow' when his head smacked against the wood. Mikkel stared at him angrily, and Norway let out a lame gulp, pushing his back to the wall. Denmark refrained from smacking him again.

"Cutting open your hand to keep me from getting angry? Really, Nor? I didn't think you had that much idiocy in you." Håkon looked surprised, and he inched his way across the wall and away from the Dane. Mikkel grabbed his arm and pulled him close again.

"This is getting ridiculous. Håkon! Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?"

"Yes," Håkon suddenly spat, glare set hard in his eyes, "that's exactly what i'm doing, Mikkel. I'm not terrified to make you angry, i'm not hurt by the way you've smacked me around. In fact, I love it. It took you long enough to figure it out." Mikkel's face went unreadable at the Norwegian's sarcastic, snappy tone. Håkon was scared he did wrong for himself once again.

"You better fix this attitude, Nor, because I won't take much more of it." He let go of his arm and walked into the kitchen to help Dagfinnur finish the cooking. Håkon stood, glued to the wall, and shook shamelessly. His breathing was shallow and short, and he could only watch after Mikkel. Something had to change soon because he couldn't take much more of this misery.

* * *

Iceland couldn't help but realize everything seemed wrong that night. Dinner was silent. No one made eye contact, and Håkon hardly ate any of the food set in front of him. Mikkel seemed stifled, and his jaw was set closed, clenched hard when he wasn't chewing or taking a bite. Dagfinnur found himself upset the whole meal, pushing food around on his plate and cautiously bringing bites to his mouth. When he worked up the courage to say something, he was responded with a growling chuckle from Mikkel and a wordless nod from his brother. He helped Håkon wash the dishes and followed him when he decided to retire.

"Bror," Dagfinnur said once the bedroom door was closed and Håkon was beginning to undress for slumber. "What was that at dinner? You usually have something to say. And Mikkel always talks. What's the matter with you two?" Norway paused from pulling off his shirt, turning to face his younger with raised brows. Dagfinnur didn't flinch.

"I'm tired, is all. Do not worry yourself so, little brother. You'll get a crease in your brow."

"I don't care. And i'm not buying that 'I'm tired' manure. You're lying to me. Did Mikkel do something wrong? Are you two fighting? I always thought you loved each other like a man loves his wife-"

"Quiet yourself, Dagfinn." The Icelandic was startled by the tone. He wasn't unused to the snappiness the Norwegian used, but it was never directed towards him. He fell quiet, watched his brother's labored breathing go back to normal, and then bowed his head.

"It is not something to concern yourself with, lillebror. Whether or not we are fighting isn't something you need to worry. Mikkel and I will work it out ourselves, I promise."

"You really promise? Things will be normal again, and we won't have anymore silent suppers?" Håkon found it hard to answer that question. He fought the urge to purse his lips and instead gave his brother a sliver of a smile.

"I do promise."


	6. I Don't Know What's Wrong

Alright before you guys read this chapter, let me tell you the warnings.

In this chapter there are

Mentions of rape

Light gore

Abuse

Stay safe when reading this one guys. I don't want someone to get a broken morale. I also want to apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Hopefully the next one is much longer.

* * *

The rest of the night seemed to go well. They finished the dishes, listened to some of of Mikkel's ridiculous stories, and retired to their chambers when Iceland was beginning to nod off. Once Dagfinnur was in bed and fast asleep, Håkon moved quietly to his bedroom. Denmark was waiting for him.

Norway nearly jumped from fright, making a startled, scared noise in the back of his throat. Mikkel arched a brow at him, took a seat on the bed, and beckoned him forth. Håkon stayed glued in his place.

"Come here, Håkon."

"You're still mad at me."

"A little," Mikkel admitted calmly. Håkon thought of his options. He could stay where he was and risk angering the Dane further, or he could walk inside the room and deal with the unpredictability. He took in a breath, walked in the room, and let it out. Mikkel smiled at him, patting the spot on the bed next to him. Håkon reluctantly took the spot.

"I love you, you know. I didn't- I don't want you to be afraid of me when I get angry. I know you flinch when I try to touch you." Håkon debated whether or not answering him would be a good idea. When Mikkel continued on, he knew to stay silent.

"It's annoying," the Dane mused, "how you always think you know everything better than anyone else. It's hurtful how you and Sweden think i'm the punchline of a joke."

"I don't think you're a joke-"

"Shut it." Håkon's mouth clamped shut. His hands felt wet and clammy, and his stomach churned and lurched uncomfortably. The glare in Mikkel's eyes set his blood cold, and he couldn't stop the involuntary shiver from taking over his body. Denmark rolled his eyes.

"I read the letters from Berwald, you know. Every last one of them. You're telling him about what i've done? Telling him about how much you miss him."

"I-I do miss him-! So do you, Mikkel, you're just too prideful-" He was cut short by being roughly shoved against the mattress and pinned beneath the Dane's form. His eyes went wide, and he could only stare up at Mikkel.

"Don't tell me you fucking miss him, and don't you tell me I miss him, too! He's worthless now, Håkon." Håkon nodded his head slowly and hoped that it was enough for Mikkel to snap out of whatever this was. It wasn't. Mikkel, instead, pressed his lips to the side of his face, down his jaw, and bit roughly on his neck. Håkon gasped out in pain, shut his eyes tightly, and muttered something beneath his breath. Mikkel continued.

"Mikkel, quit, please. This really hurts- I don't want to do this."

"Consider it punishment." The Norwegian's heart stopped beating in his chest. He laid there, rigidly, letting Mikkel nip harshly at the patches of bare skin, letting him run his hands wherever he so desired them to touch. When he found his strength and went to push him off, Denmark reacted simply by pinning his wrists down, finding more skin to sink his teeth into. Håkon bit his tongue to keep from calling out in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn't anywhere close to over, and he knew the more he resisted, the worse it would be. He tried to think of anything else while Mikkel did what he did.

* * *

Mikkel sat at the side of the bed, cradling his head in his hands, gasping out through sobs. He couldn't even look at Håkon. He just whimpered out 'i'm sorry's' left and right, hoping by the good grace of whoever was out there, he'd forgive him. If truth were told, he didn't expect him to.

When Denmark finally calmed himself enough, he turned to Håkon, forcing back a gasp and more forming tears. Large, black bruises covered his hips, blood stained his porcelain skin, and the bite mark on his collarbone seemed sure to get infected. He sat stunned and quiet, apologizing with his eyes, his body language. Norway slowly lifted himself until he sat upright.

"Mikkel-"

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" The Dane cried out suddenly. Håkon couldn't fight off the flinch. Mikkel stared at him helplessly, tears falling down his cheeks again. As much as the Norwegian wanted to wipe them away, he didn't. He couldn't. He just breathed in and breathed out rhythmically.

"I'm so sorry-"

"I know you are," Håkon murmured. Mikkel picked up his hand and held it in his.

"I don't- I never- I don't want to be like this, Håkon. This is- it's imperialistic; this isn't what our union's about." Norway found himself pausing his breathing, halting his heart from beating, and letting the only sound be blood rushing in his ears. When he felt faint, he let himself live again. No, this wasn't what the union was to be about, but this was what the union was becoming. It was a mess, twisted and contorted into something Mikkel had promised it would never become. It started with the bloodbath, and this was where it needed to end.

Mikkel brough Håkon's hand up to his lips, kissed his knuckles gently, and sat closer until he could press a calming kiss to his cheek. Norway squeezed his palm, closing his eyes, and letting himself be coaxed out of his tension. He opened his eyes slowly, looked at Mikkel, and felt tears slip from beneath his lashes.

"I'm so sorry, Håkon," Mikkel cracked out, bringing the Norwegian closer to him until he could fully embrace him, letting the wetness of his cheeks drench his chest. Håkon couldn't bring himself to respond. He could only cry and tremble and mutter how much it all hurt. How awful this whole situation had become. Mikkel didn't want to, but he agreed.

* * *

Things were different in the morning. Mikkel didn't allow Dagfinnur to wake Håkon up. Instead, the two of them made breakfast together, both chatting idly without having any weight to their words. When the time came to eat, Mikkel gently awoke Håkon, using water and a cloth to clean his wounds before helping him dress. It became obvious too soon that the Norwegian would be bedridden for the day, and Denmark couldn't help but apologize too many times. He let Dagfinnur bring him breakfast.

"Bror," Dagfinnur had said, setting down the tray gently on Håkon's lap, "are you ill? Is it because of your hand?"

"I am ill, yes, but not from the cut. I would say just allergies. You know how Mikkel loves to overreact." Håkon didn't want to lie. He wanted to tell Dagfinnur was had happened, why he couldn't come out to breakfast and join them outside while they played and worked, but something stopped him each time. Something forced him to protect Mikkel, to excuse his behaviour, and he wondered solemnly if it were out of pity or of love.

"I hope you feel well soon, then. Mikkel's an awful cook." Håkon laughed,

"He doesn't have much practice. I'm sure one of these days he'll make something you beg for when you see him." Iceland scoffed at that, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Right after you have a union with Berwald."


	7. When It's Over

Hey guys. I am back. Sorry this took so long, but I was so busy with my cosplay blog I forgot to update this whoops

Anyways this is the final chapter. I hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

Håkon found it hard day in and day out to keep up with Mikkel fluctuations in mood. At times he seemed normal, cracking jokes, kissing him, making Iceland pout at his teasing. When he wasn't himself, he was a brutal, attacking, making unprovoked remarks, causing Dagfinnur to question the bruising on his arms and the teeth marks on his neck. Nor was becoming almost remarkably thin, losing the muscle he once had from the viking ages and becoming nothing more than bones and flesh. His skin lost its warm glow and seemed pale, clammy.

"You sure you're okay, bror? You just seem unhappy. Is it Mikkel?" Håkon paused his writing, looking over at his brother. There was a scowl present on the preteen's features. He sighed.

"Mikkel is having a hard time coping with Berwald leaving-"

"That was centuries ago, Håkon. You can't keep using that as an excuse." Norway sat in stunned silence. He had been using Sweden leaving as an excuse, hadn't he? Mikkel had gotten strange before Sweden left. He was possessive, rude. He caused Berwald such pain, and for some reason turned a blind eye to it. No wonder Sweden left.

"Go out and play, Island. I have a letter to write."

"But Nor-"

"Now." The Icelander frowned, sucking air in through his teeth and doing as his brother had told him. Back to his lonesome, Norway began to write.

* * *

Letters in secret were passed between Berwald and Håkon, hidden from Mikkel's eyes and kept quiet from Dagfinnur. Plans were shared, help was asked for, and pleasantries were exchanged. Once or twice, a confession of love (or perhaps it was desire, lust maybe) came into conversation from both parties, and Norway found it increasingly harder to hide the flush in his cheeks and the letters from the Dane.

"You write often these days." Håkon's heart stopped, and he dropped his pencil to look at Denmark. The Dane seemed unconcerned, head cocked and shoulders slouched casually. He took in a breath and nodded.

"Yes. I do."

"Who do you write to?" Norway paused.

"Tino." Mikkel snorted, nodding his head.

"Are you sure it's not Berwald?" The Norwegian's blood ran cold, and all the colour left his face. He stared pleadingly at Mikkel, jaw clenched tightly enough to quiver. It was surprising to see the soft smile and sad shine in Mikkel's eyes. He waited.

And he waited.

And he waited.

Nothing.

"Mikkel?"

"Are you leaving with him?" Håkon licked his bottom lip and turned his eyes away from the hurt ones before him.

"Yes." Mikkel swallowed hard, and the noise made Norway wince.

"Are you taking Iceland?"

"He's happier with you," Håkon tried, "and he doesn't care for Berwald much. Says he takes my side too often." Denmark nearly chuckled.

"How long before he comes?" Norway tried to ignore the crack in his voice.

"Two days." Mikkel nodded his head, breathed harshly through his nose, and tried to compose himself.

"Are you marrying him? So to speak…"

"I'm so sorry, Danmark." Denmark shook his head, taking a step back out of Håkon's room.

"No...No don't be. I'm- I'm sorry. This is- my fault. I let imperialism get to my head, and I fucked up with you. I- I deserve this. I hope he treats you better than I did." Norway opened his mouth to speak, but Denmark was gone, head turned down and fingers rubbing teary eyes. For the first time in a long while, Håkon felt his heart truly break.

* * *

Mikkel hadn't come down when Sweden arrived. Seeing him again would have brought back too much, and he didn't think he could watch Norway leave. Iceland had begged him to come down, but it was to no avail. Mikkel disregarded him, took a sip of the strongest liquor he had, and tried to engross himself into a book.

"D'ya have everythin'?" Norway nodded, turning towards his younger brother. Dagfinnur stared back at him, arms crossed, and lips pursed. Håkon sighed.

"Lillebror-"

"Do not call me that. As far as i'm concerned, we aren't blood related. If we were, you wouldn't leave me. You wouldn't leave us." The Norwegian was taken aback by the tone. Dagfinn hadn't spoken to him like this, and he could only assume this was his penance to pay.

"Dagfinnur, i'm not leaving you-"

"But you are! Why can't you stay? Why can't Berwald stay? Why can't Tino come, and we all just be a happy family like before?"

"Because it will take some time away from each other to be a happy family again." Mikkel's voice shocked the room. He continued, "Berwald, Håkon, have a safe trip. Say hi to Tino for me. I'll take care of Dagfinnur, and i'll try to explain this to him."

"Danmark-"

"Jeg elsker dig, Norge. Come on, Island." He turned, taking one step up the stairs before turning to throw Dagfinnur a look over his shoulder. With a sigh and a mumbled farewell, Dagfinnur followed up, passing Mikkel easily and slamming the door to his room.

"Berwald?"

"Ja, Dan?"

"Jag är ledsen." Mikkel didn't stay to see the stunned look on the Swede's face. He hurried himself upstairs and into his own bedroom where the door quietly clicked shut.

* * *

"Nor? Are ya okay? Do ya want me t' bring ya somethin'?" Håkon looked up at Berwald, offered some sort of reassuring smile, and shook his head.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Berwald nodded and shuffled off, leaving the Norwegian to his writing.

_Dear Mikkel,_

_I know you're sorry, and we all forgive you. I am glad you're taking such care of Dagfinnur despite his attitude. I wish I would have stayed long enough to see you change again. From the few letters Ice has sent, you seem much stronger and sweeter._

_I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I left Iceland. Please never hold this against me._

_I never got to tell you before I left, but Jeg elsker deg. _

_Best Regards,_

_Håkon_

_P.S. Let's live like a happy family again once this is all over._


End file.
